Postcards from Sunvalley: A stroll through time at the world’s largest mall

Let me tell you a secret. When I was a kid, Sunvalley Mall wasn't just a mall—it was a planet. A self-contained, air-conditioned universe that stretched endlessly in all directions, wrapped in terrazzo and mystery, and echoing with the whispers of escalators and the chime of the JC Penney intercom.

Sunvalley opened in 1967, and back then, they weren’t subtle about it. No, no. They called it the world's largest enclosed shopping center—two levels of pure retail bliss, and it had everything: a cinema, an ice rink below ground, department stores big enough to have their own weather systems, and a parking lot that could swallow 9,000 cars whole. And because it was the future, it was also fully air-conditioned. That was important enough to stamp on the back of postcards.

And oh, the postcards.

Those dreamy snapshots from the late ’60s and ’70s, shot in perfect Kodachrome, now live in my collection like old valentines. One shows the mall from above—looking southeast, Mount Diablo in the background, I-680 a quiet freeway. No Willows Shopping Center. No Ellinwood office park. Just grasses, wild mustard, and that gleaming retail monolith rising like a spaceship from a cow field.

The back of the card reads:
"Sunvalley Shopping Center. An aerial of the newest and most modern shopping centers in the U.S.A. It is completely enclosed and air conditioned." The card was postmarked February 24, 1975. Back when it cost 8 cents to mail a postcard! Near Penney's, a wooden fence surrounds a cement courtyard that allowed you to see the roof of the ice rink underground. This "hole" became a restaurant pad by 1968. I think Macy's still has the blue awnings. Timeless, they might say.

You'd never know the mall was two stories from this postcard; the lower level is underground (least on this side of the mall). If you look closely, you can see "Cinema" on the side, by Bank of America. The back of the postcard reads "SunValley, the world's largest enclosed, air conditioned shopping center, contains free parking for 9,000 cars, including 16 acres of covered parking."

Center Court

In one postcard, a woman pushes a Baza’r cart through the center, even though Baza’r wasn’t in the mall (it was a discount store up the road). Go figure. But the real stars of the shot were the giant light fixtures—bulbous bursts of chrome and filaments, like space-age dandelions mid-explosion. And in the center? Those giant metal sculptures that rose from the fountain below, more palm tree than public art, unless you squinted just right.

The postcard promises: "Over 120 stores on two levels of the mammoth mall at Sun Valley, the world's largest enclosed, air-conditioned shopping center."

A friend wrote on it: “Mary, we should do this shopping center together some day! Spent 3 hours there Monday and hardly scratched the surface.”
Mary Carello of Syracuse: this one’s for you.

This second-series postcard allows you to see all the way down to Sears.

Then there was the fountain

Ah yes. Copper coins and childhood wishes. I remember tossing pennies into the black stone fountain, watching them tumble through the water like tiny suns.

The back of the card reads: "Sunvalley Shopping Center. 'Dills and Dandelions' feature dandelions and various other petaled flowers on 40 foot fiberglass stems. These flowered kinetics are rooted in the first level main fountain and shoot through a large airway into the second level Great Hall. They will move and sing when air is blown on them from hidden fans. Six-foot long attractive metal bugs cling to several of the flowers lending a Brobdingnagian atmosphere to the Great Hall." (I had to look that up. It means really big.)

This next card shows the center court, taken near the portals to the lower level (we affectionately called "the dungeon" in the early 80s). Visible is the B. Dalton Bookseller, which ultimately relocated between Macy's and Penney's.

After the remodel, it's like none of it existed. Can't say I miss the dungeon feel, though.

The Sunvalley Mall center court decked out for Christmas.

Penney's Court

Here we have another beautiful postcard showing the JC Penney court in Sunvalley Mall.

Boy howdy do I remember those escalators. The handrails were grey with ridges. I don't know WHY I remember that, but I do. It wouldn't surprise me if they haven't replaced the handrail track, yet.

The classic "Penney's" logo displays, with its "P" in blue. That sign survived intact until the Nineties! Even Sears had updated their red classic-script sign by then. On the lower level in this area was the food court, which was removed at some point. I'd love to find a photo of that, since it's just a blurry memory. It wouldn't surprise me if there is a postcard floating around with it (I'll keep my eyes peeled).

Things you often forget, but cause an immediate memory jog: mall art.

This first-series postcard was postmarked 1974. It was taken from the Penney's Court. If only we could see the cinema, ice rink, and Anna Miller's Pies on the lower level.

Let's face it, the earlier photo needed flash. In the second series of cards, now we can see the art. Having discounted the notion that artwork in a mall is wasted on the young, I am converted. 

Post remodel, I missed those dark terrazzo floors.

The Sears Court?

Well, that one had a fountain too—a mission padre or monk in its center. I remember him, calmly blessing the shoppers. He vanished in the renovations, sacrificed to the new lower-level entrance to Sears. Back when the mall first opened, Sears had only one entrance from the mall on the upper level. A lonely staircase connected shopping with the lower level. It was a bit like entering a side-quest in a video game.

1989 logo

Oh, I loved that logo. It was sleek and geometric, a Taubman special—simple, modern, confident. Like the mall itself still had something to prove, even after all those years. The directory it adorned sat in my lap for hours as I mapped out my circuitous route inside the mall.

Sunvalley Mall is still here. Still bustling. Still changing. But sometimes, I close my eyes and see it as it once was: a temple of light and tile and endless escalators. Where the fountains sang, the bugs were bigger than your head, and the air was always, miraculously, cool.